


Proceed with Caution, Master Obi-Wan

by Cobalt_Djinn



Series: Proceed with Caution [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jedi Council that cares, M/M, Personal Growth, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_Djinn/pseuds/Cobalt_Djinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker is wild and uncontrollable, on the threshold of being expelled from the Order due to numerous transgressions. His poor Master tried his best, but even Obi-Wan is near the end of his wits. Mace and the Council intervene, and in the process unearth many baggages. Together, Master and Apprentice must learn to accept the past and present so they may forge a future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proceed with Caution, Master Obi-Wan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merry_amelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/gifts), [Gail Riordan (lferion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Meditations on a Moment in Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310) by [Gail Riordan (lferion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/Gail%20Riordan). 



> Newly revised version

Mace Windu was evaluating the techniques of two clans of Initiates engaged in friendly lightsaber competition, and thus was in a prime position to observe the unfolding of the latest _Skywalker incident._ A group of junior padawans were practicing their footwork on the other end of the dojo under the supervision of three senior padawans. As usual, the masters of those padawans were performing shared kata or open-handed combat off the side; the arrangement allowed the masters to furtively observe their students as well as exchange notes with their colleagues, and gave the apprentices an illusion of independence from their masters. 

The trouble first stirred when the masters finished their exercise and went to the communal showers. Mace kept his eyes on the children under his care, but extended his Force-enhanced perception to the junior padawans. There appeared to be a slight altercation. Fortunately the senior padawans noticed the negative emotions polluting the Force as well and swiftly intervened. Satisfied that the situation was under control, Mace turned his attention back to Initiate Ha’leen-Kuay, a slim Rodian who, if he was not mistaken, might turn out to be the first true Makashi practitioner after Dooku.

What Mace had been mistaken was his belief that anything could be quickly resolved when it involved Skywalker. A single warning thrill from the Force was all that he felt when a veritable detonation rocked the dojo floor. Mace instinctively erected a Force shield around the Initiates and flattened two small ones closest to him by tackling them to the floor and protecting them with his body. When a few seconds ticked by and nothing else happened, he released the two squirming Initiates and stood up to investigate. 

He nearly exploded himself upon seeing the states the junior padawans were in. The padawans were picking themselves off the floor, looking at though they had been flung aside by brute force. Some gingerly rubbed their bruised limbs while others scurried around to retrieve their fallen lightsabers. Mace noted with some relief that none of them seemed grievously injured. At the epicentre of this disastrous scene were Skywalker and Padawan Mays. They also happened to be the only ones unfazed by the explosion, and that was because Skywalker was too busy sitting on Padawan Mays’ torso and pummelling the hapless boy into oblivion. Skywalker cursed with every punch, spewing expletives the creativity of which impressed even Mace. It took no genius to deduce that the infamous “Chosen One” had lost his temper. Again.

After reassuring the Initiates that all would be taken care of and sternly instructing them to meditate, Mace stalked toward the padawans, fully intending to teach them the true meaning of _temper_. He was beaten by another, however.

“Padawan, what in the Force are you doing!”

The Force-enhanced bellow was enough to snap Skywalker out of his one-sided fight, and Mace could appreciate the abject fear that instantly replaced Skywalker’s anger. Knight Kenobi strode toward them, dripping wet and clad in nothing but leggings, lightsaber in one hand and towel in another; he was radiating so much tightly reined fury the normally gentle man was transformed into the fierce warrior capable of defeating a Sith. “Release Padawan Mays, Anakin.” That order was obeyed without hesitation. Kenobi went over to help Padawan Mays sit up, scanning his body with the Force to detect hidden damages. “Stand by the wall over there, Anakin.”

With his apprentice out of the way, Kenobi went to investigate. He questioned the senior padawans and then the junior padawans, all the while consulting the Force for deception or misdirection. He then went in to dojo backroom to check the recording of the security camera. At last, he turned toward his own padawan. When he spoke, his voice carried nothing but defeat and resignation. “Padawan, I have been told that Padawan Mays brought up your upbringing to provoke you, upon which you retaliated by performing a massive Force shove that impacted everyone on this side of the dojo _as well as_ disarming and beating Padawan Mays. Do you contradict this, or have anything else to add?”

The blonde boy stared back sullenly. “I have nothing to add, Master.”

By this time masters in various stages of wetness and undress had emerged from the showers. Mace held most of them back except Padawan Mays’ master, whom he told to escort her padawan to the healers and await instruction from the Council and apology from Kenobi and Skywalker; Master Von Cher complied, but not without shooting both Kenobi and Skywalker several glares. 

Together, the remaining masters watched in silence as the most junior of their rank sent Skywalker back to his room and then quietly ascertained the other padawan’s lack of injury. Mace would have admired Kenobi’s aplomb at handling the crisis if it wasn’t his apprentice that precipitated the event in the first place. When at last Kenobi seemed satisfied with the health of the padawans, he turned toward the assembled masters. “Masters, I apologise for my padawan’s violent behaviour and the alarm and hurt he caused to your padawans.” Kenobi offered his deepest bow, wet hair plastered to the side of his face. “Master Windu, I submit my padawan and myself to the Council’s discipline.”

Kenobi’s honest contrition doused some of Mace’s ire. He suddenly felt as weary as Kenobi looked. “Return to your padawan, Knight Kenobi. Expect to report to the High Council first thing in the morning.”

The Knight bowed again and went back to the shower room to retrieve his clothes, his calm, measured movement belying his frustration. Mace watched the retreating figure warily, sensing impending doom in every step Kenobi took. The apprenticeship of the ‘Chosen One’ by a newly minted Knight had been a risky undertaking to begin with, but now the situation seemed to approach a critical point. Skywalker’s academic performance was good enough, but he disrupted the Temple at every turn with his uninhibited behaviours. Last ten it had been the accidental demolishment of a valuable artefact on a museum tour, and the ten before was blatant plagiarism during an exam. The boy was simply out of control, unable to attain the emotional peace required of every Jedi. 

Oh, his Master tried hard enough. That Mace knew first-hand. Kenobi had consulted almost every Jedi Master willing to talk him on how to manage a wayward apprentices, but he gained few actually useful advices — by the time initiates became padawans respect and obedience would have been ingrained in them, so it was rare that a Master would need to contend with significant rebellion from their student.

Wordlessly the group of masters broke apart. Mace returned to the Initiates to send them to their lunch. Feeling not at all hungry, he typed up an abbreviated report to apprise the Council of the situation. Ordinarily such a disciplinary issue would be of little concern to the Mace, but the frequency with which Skywalker landed himself into these situations alarmed him. In addition, since Kenobi’s knighting he had begun a tentative friendship with Mace, and Mace disliked seeing his friend caught in such untenable straits, constantly being called to the Council to answer for his apprentice’s poor judgement. Everything would have been much simpler had Kenobi simply disregarded his master’s dying instruction.

The Council convened at the sixth hour the next day.

The pair that entered the rounded chamber looked to the world like any other Jedi teams, or as similar as they could be considering the number of different species the Order was composed of. The master walked ahead of the apprentice, the Force flowing sedately around him like his long brown cloak. The padawan following a step behind was grim-faced and subdued. If the master looked slightly too young and the padawan slightly too old, the slight deviation from norm could easily be overlooked. Yet they should not be so easily dismissed. For beneath the trapping of a Jedi Knight and his apprentice were two unhappy souls, each finding itself trapped in a situation not of its own making. The small part of Mace that wasn’t the Head of the Jedi Council ached for the man prematurely tied down by an unwanted ward and for the child who rebelled against the stricture of a servitude he had unwittingly entered. Yet his prevailing rationality perceived a problem to be solved: Skywalker’s activities must be stopped one way or the other. Whether it would be achieved by expulsion or some other means would be determined in this session. 

Mace masked his sigh. None of them would enjoy the next fifteen minutes.

Since none appeared willing to begin this unique brand of torture, Eeth Koth took it upon himself to do so. “Anakin Skywalker, you are censured for attacking your fellow apprentices. This Council will decide the consequences of your action. Knight Kenobi, report on the follow-ups of yesterday’s incident.”

Kenobi inclined his head slightly. “Anakin has apologised to Master Von Cher and Padawans Mays, as well as every single padawans practicing with him in the dojo yesterday. He has meditated on the nature of his transgression and written an essay on the ethics of violence.” All appropriately done, yet Mace wondered whether such measure had any effect on Skywalker at all.

“Do you understand what you have done wrongly yesterday, Padawan Skywalker?” Oppo Rancisis asked, giving the boy his sternest stare. Out of all of them, Oppo had the highest hope for Skywalker, although it was clear that the hope had been steadily eroded by the boy’s ungoverned exploits. 

Skywalker shrank into himself, wilting under the disapproval. “Yes, Master. I should not have felt anger. Failing that, I should not have express anger in violence.” Despite the fact that the boy’s shielding had progressed to such a level his surface thoughts could not be accurately examined anymore, the remorse Mace felt from him was genuine, as was the fear.

Managing a former slave was a delicate matter. The boy perceived punishment as oppression, thus eradicating the educational value of any penalty. Yet the lack of disciplining would translate into condonation. The Council debated the issue among themselves. Eventually, it was Oppo’s idea that received the highest vote. They would allow the boy’s master a chance to suggest a recourse. If he had none, Skywalker would be temporarily placed in the care of a more experienced Master in the hope that another teacher could manage to instil in him the virtues of Jedi padawan. It was by no mean a perfect solution, rather a last resort before Skywalker’s expulsion. 

Finally, Yarael Poof spoke, “Knight Kenobi, do you have any suggestion on how to address the issue of your apprentice’s emotional volatility and his inability to abide by the Jedi Code?”

Apparently the Knight was waiting for just such a question. 

“Masters, I respectfully suggest that Anakin’s title be suspended and that he be put on probation.” Kenobi stepped closer to his padawan and placed a reassuring hand on quivering shoulder to soften the blow. At least the boy did not look astonished, merely resigned, which in itself was a surprise. In the safety of his shielded mind Mace had always likened Skywalker to a Sladobian bowl worm, clinging tightly to the first solid object it touched with all its tentacles and suckers. Kenobi must have explained the situation to him beforehand to forestall the latent sense of abandonment. “It occurred to me that when Anakin was first accepted into the Jedi community he was not in the best position to judge his own compatibility with the Jedi philosophy. Now that he is older and has more exposure to the Jedi lifestyle, I believe he will benefit from a period of reevaluation on his vocation.”

It was smartly done. A probation certainly counted as sufficient punishment for this level of infraction. And should the Council agree with it, it would have to express its support for Skywalker’s transfer to other Corps should the boy wish for it. Kenobi was, if nothing else, an expert at negotiation. Mace mentally discussed Kenobi’s proposal with his colleagues, but it was clear that the suggestion was the most logical thus far. Skywalker had entered the Jedi community when his life had undergone a major upheaval and when he could scarcely comprehend the true meaning of freedom. Perhaps some quiet time to think on the other options could reaffirm Skywalker’s commitment or divert it elsewhere. Or so Mace hoped, anyway.

“The Council concurs with your suggest, Knight Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker’s right and responsibility as a padawan are temporarily suspended. He should continue his classes, but both of you will be removed from mission roster for the next three tens. Afterward the Council would reconvene to discuss Padawan Skywalker’s status in the Jedi Order.” 

“Thank you, Masters. I will guide my student through the period of reflection,” Kenobi replied solemnly. Turning to face his apprentice, he tipped Skywalker’s head up with a finger to look into his eyes. “It is as we have discussed yesterday, Anakin. We will meditate and talk about what path you wish your life to take. You must understand that your decision will be supported by myself and the Council, whether that is continuing as a padawan, becoming a healer, a pilot, a scholar, a mechanic or even leaving the Jedi community all together. I will not cease to care about you just because you are not my direct responsibility.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then the first tentative smile blossomed on Skywalker’s face. “Yes, Master.”

“May the Force be with you, Knight Kenobi,” said Yoda abruptly, speaking for the first time during the entire meeting. “A word alone with Anakin Skywalker I would like.” 

If Kenobi was surprised, the emotion did not register on his face. He bowed to the Council and gave Skywalker another pat on the head. Then he left without another word.

The boy shuffled slightly and then caught himself. He breathed in deeply through his nostrils and expelled the air though his mouth. The child was terribly unsubtle about his attempt at calming nerves, but at least he eventually stopped digging his soles into the floor.

“My grand-grand-padawan your Master is,” began Yoda, and Mace immediately realised the tactic for what it was: an appeal to the boy’s sense of familial attachment. Did Yoda _See_ something, Mace wondered, that urged him to employ such a drastic measure? For it was a perilous strategy. It could potentially inspire Skywalker’s compliance for the short term, but it risked tying his loyalty to an individual instead of to a common cause. “Full of trials and hardships your Master’s life is. Grieve he still does for lost friends and family. Yet care for you he does. Love him do you?”

“Of course I do,” came the indignant answer. “How can you even ask that?” The boy scowled, an expression rarely seen on any Jedi older than four. It reeked of so much immaturity that Mace suddenly could not recall any reason of keeping him on the Knight course. Ah, but of course there was the matter of Kenobi’s obstinance. And the necessity of channeling the boy’s power to the right direction. 

Yoda thumped his gimer stick impatiently. Mace blinked at this display of annoyance. Apparently this was more than a tactical manoeuvre: Yoda was properly incensed at Skywalker on Kenobi’s behave. Yoda had also taken Kenobi under his wings after Qui-Gon’s death, just as Mace himself had, and it seemed the gnome had had enough as well. “‘Love him’ you said you do. Yet respect him you do not. Heed his instructions you do not. Take his teaching to heart you do not. Signs of a loving padawan those are not.” 

At this point Skywalker’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. Yoda was the master of guilt tripping. Mace would have pitied Skywalker if he didn’t itch to have the exact same conversation with the boy as well. This blunt honesty might border on cruelty, but evidences showed that subtle prompts never had worked on this boy. Yoda pressed on, going for full frontal assault. “Kill for your protection your Master would. Die for your protection your Master would. Sacrifice his happiness for yours he would. In fact, sacrifice his happiness for yours he already does. Yet repay his kindness with insolence you do. Shame his teaching with wilful disobedience you do. Despair your Master does of every reaching through to you, but try he still does. Normal it is not for thirty-year-old human to have that much white hair.”

As Yoda spoke, the Force became increasing agitated by Skywalker’s turbulent emotions. A sob escaped the boy. He wiped his face with his sleeves and bit his lips. “I’m sorry, Master Yoda. I really am. I never meant to hurt him.”

Yoda waited until the tears were once again under control. “Important it is not whether mean to do it you did or not. Hurt him you do. Learn you must that obedience is no servitude. Obedience is love. Respect is love. Learn you must, or injure him further, you would.” Skywalker nodded fervently, lips trembling. Yoda huffed but relented. “Guardian,” he addressed the sentinels at the door, “bring in Knight Kenobi.”

The door opened, and Kenobi hurried in. He sketched a bow barely within the boundary of decorum and gripped Skywalker’s shoulders. “Anakin, what happened? I haven’t felt you this upset since…”

The boy flung himself into Kenobi’s arms, knocking the breath out of the older man. Completely bewildered by Skywalker’s clinging, Kenobi nevertheless wrapped his arms around his apprentice and attempted to sooth him, murmuring soft reassuring words and carding his fingers through dirty blonde hair, but that only prompted a fresh bout of tears. “Anakin…” Two hands cupped the student’s face, the thumbs stroking small circles on the jaw. “Shhh, it’s all right. It’s all right.”

Mace glanced over at Depa three seats to his left. He had served together with Depa for so long now he sometimes forgot she had been his padawan. His Depa had once been as young and needing as Anakin Skywalker (though naturally nowhere near as wild or unreserved). Even now he could still recall the exact sensation of enfolding her tiny, shaking shoulders in his arms with all the accompanying rush of protectiveness and tenderness the action had engendered. Depa had been a very strong-willed and independent child, but it took her years to learn to overcome her visceral distress at some of her prescience’s revelations, and on those nights when she clutched at her blanket and gasped for air, Mace had calmed her with cooing words and gentle hands much as Kenobi did now.

His reminiscence enabled him to identify the strange expression that flickered over Kenobi’s face. It was a parent’s fear-awe-astonishment at beholding the young entrusted to their care. Mace smiled into his hand, his displeasure at Skywalker temporarily forgotten. There was nothing quite like raising a child.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” wailed Skywalker, his desperation almost a physical presence in the room. “I love you, Master. I won’t make you sad again.”

If Kenobi was baffled earlier, now he must worry for Skywalker’s sanity. He shot Mace a questioning glance, and Mace mouthed back _Later_. Resigned to his confusion, Kenobi nodded to the Council — the only acknowledgement he could give since Skywalker clung to him like a … a Sladobian bowl worm — and gently nudged his student toward the door. The double-door swung shut behind the pair, mercifully cutting off Skywalker’s loud snivels.

At last Mace couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Master Yoda, you took that very personally.”

Yoda harrumphed and said, “Approve of this pairing I never did. When fourteen-year-old Obi-Wan was, earn a probation he did for leaving the Order to help end a civil war. Now fourteen Skywalker is, earn a probation he did for beating other padawans. Irresponsible, Qui-Gon was, to foist such a child on Obi-Wan.”

“Knight Kenobi wouldn’t have it any other way,” Adi pointed out. “He is too loyal to Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Love too deeply Obi-Wan does,” Yoda sniffed, managing to sound both exasperated and proud. Mace thought back to the young Jedi he had found weeping over a bier of hot ashes, and silently agreed.

That started the conversation. It seemed every Council member had a piece to say about Qui-Gon and Kenobi, and for a moment another debate seemed imminent. But their time had run out. There were thirty-four items on their agenda today, with at least five that were guaranteed to take more than half an hour each. Thus Mace firmly wrenched his attention back to the present, fixed a presentable stony mask on his face, and signalled for the sentinels to send in the next-in-line. It was going to be a long day indeed.

By the time Mace pressed the door chime to Kenobi’s quarters, it was almost the twenty-third hour. He was hungry, tired, and his backside felt as if it had been permanently moulded to the curvature of his chair. 

Thankfully Kenobi was the soul of hospitality no matter the hour. “Welcome in, Master Windu.” The door opened revealing the impeccably dressed Knight. “Have you eaten yet?”

“It’s just Mace this evening, Obi-Wan. I’m not here on Council business.” Mace let himself to be ushered to the low tea table beside the floor-length window. The worn piece of furniture bore numerous mug rings and other miscellaneous mystery stains. Kenobi cleared away the piles of datapads lying on it with judicious use of the Force.“And no, I haven’t eaten anything since the eleventh hour.”

“I’ll fix a pot of tea and something for you to eat. Hope you don’t mind Silurian nerf stew.”

Mace sat down on one of the age-softened cushion, enjoying the day’s first true moment of inactivity. Lulled by the fragrant smell drifting over from the kitchen and the soft peals of the wind chime, he allowed his attention the luxury to drift unmoored. The deco of Kenobi’s living quarters was simple but tasteful, a paradoxical combination of sturdy woodworks and fragile ornaments. Candles in eggshell-thin lamps illuminated the rows of potted greeneries affixed on the wall. The drooping vines hang down from their wooden frame, a living tapestry of life and growth. Pieces of delicate blown glass glistened on the hand-carven shelves, interspersed with water-smoothed stones and semiprecious crystals.

The host returned presently, setting a tray on the table beside two small flowering plants in terracotta pots — a daffodil and a chrysanthemum. He deftly served the tea and stew to Mace before settling down himself with a cup of tea. Mace raised the teacup to his mouth and caught a whiff of the aroma. Roasted kingsleaf. Kenobi must be upset. Lately he had begun to experiment with his own tea blends. This regression to the brew favoured by his deceased master could only signify his unsettlement. 

After clearing two bowls of stew, Mace finally felt civil enough for conversation.

“Where is your padawan?”

Kenobi closed his eyes briefly, probing the training bond with an expression that spoke of long practice. “In his chamber and, mercifully, asleep. He must be more tired than usual due to this morning’s emotional turmoil, or he would never forgo working on that vacuuming droid he requisitioned from the recycler.”

“Good,” said Mace. And with that, he began to recount Yoda’s ‘conversation’ with Skywalker.

“That does explain a lot of what happened when I talked with Anakin this afternoon. He actually apologised to me for his obstinance,” Kenobi said thoughtfully after Mace finished his account. “I never imagined that my padawan would recognise the error in his wilfulness. I must have underestimated Master Yoda’s persuasiveness.”

Mace cocked an eyebrow at the Knight’s tone of disbelief, but chose not to call him on it. “Or perhaps you simply underestimated your sway on the boy. Though his actions speak the contrary, Skywalker actually cares for you. So, what is your plan for the next few tens?”

“I meant what I’ve said, Mace. I will guide Anakin in reevaluating his position in the Order. Anakin has finally reached an age where he can begin to understand that being Jedi means the surrender of power rather than the possession of power.” Kenobi ran his thumb over the rim of his cup distractedly, not meeting Mace’s critical eyes. “I believe that if he can accept that we are the instrument of the Light instead of the other way around, the rest of his apprenticeship will follow naturally. If not…I would recommend him for piloting or mechanics.”

“That is a sound plan. What troubles you still?”

Kenobi put down his cup and touched a leaf of the potted narcissus, his finger ghosting across the glossy surface. The stronger contact with the Living Force seemed to bolster him slightly. Yet when he raised his eyes to meet Mace’s, he looked unbearably sad. “I know intellectually that this is the right course, that Anakin cannot continue as he is, yet I have promised my Master that I would train him to be a Jedi Knight. I’d rather not face a conflict of interest such as this, but it may be inevitable.” 

Now it was Mace’s turn to want to prevaricate. Five years. It had been fives years, and still every single one of Kenobi’s decision eventually seemed to go back to Qui-Gon Jinn. Had the line between devotion and obsession been crossed? He really loathed to question both the apprentice _and_ the master’s fitness. “Your loyalty to your Master is to be commended, Obi-Wan, but this loyalty must not be greater than your loyalty to the Order or to the Light.” He held up his hand to forestall the inevitable protest that came his way. “Now, I don’t mean that following Qui-Gon would lead you to Darkness, my friend. But despite your vow to him, you have responsibility to the Order to truthfully report your padawan’s suitability to become a Knight. You cannot grant him Knighthood no matter how much you wish it. Besides, there are far worse ways to lose a padawan than to the Corps. You and I both know that Anakin’s prospect of becoming a Knight is slimmer than that of Xanatos. You have done well by him, but you must not let your vow cloud your judgment of the boy, lest you see a Jedi Knight where there is none.”

Kenobi nodded, subdued, then lapsed into a ponderous silence. Beside the minute rise and full of his chest, the man sat still as a statue. Mace felt him entered into a light trance to process the information. Indeed, what he had just been told must be hard to swallow. Yet the message could not remain undelivered; the price of failure was too high. Mace poured another cup of tea for himself, prepared to wait out Kenobi’s contemplation.

“Obi-Wan,” he used the man’s first name deliberately when ten minutes passed and Kenobi still showed no sign of wanting to resume the conversation, “you are still disturbed. Would you tell me about it?”

The silence stretched, broken only by the sweet chime swaying in the wind. Eventually Kenobi sighed, surfacing from his trance reluctantly. “I would have to asked for your opinion on this matter anyhow. Do you know an initiate by the name of Wayan Bay Chi’Dan?”

A young human boy, all blue eyes and knobbly knees, if Mace recalled correctly. And too tall for his age, almost like a miniature Wookie. He had heard of the initiate occasionally, mostly about his aptitude with logics and lightsaber. The boy had won the senatorial-style debate competition of his age group two years in a row. Nonplussed by the unexpected tangent, Mace nodded and signalled for Kenobi to continue.

“He’s in my Basic Diplomacy class. Very respectful and attentive, completely dedicated to his studies, with much promise for negotiation.” In other words, Initiate Wayan was the antithesis of Padawan Skywalker. “And he is also very near is thirteenth birthday. No Master had claimed him yet, and none is forthcoming.”

Ah, so that was the source of the trouble. Kenobi — bless his compassionate soul — must have remembered his own unhappiness at being reassigned to AgriCorp. He probably could not stand to witness the sorrow of another initiate in similar circumstances. “Obi-Wan, I know you don’t have fond memories for the Corps, but they are good places for children to develop their talents and contribute to the society. And you do know that not all initiates are destined to become padawans, and not all padawans knights.”

Kenobi shook his head. “I understand that the Corps could be the right place for many children, but it wasn’t for me and it isn’t for Initiate Wayan. Even when it seemed to all the world that no master would want me, I knew that I was meant to be a Jedi Knight. My destiny was clear in the Force. It is so for Initiate Wayan as well. That was why I went to talk to Creche Master Tek.”

Although Mace had not known Kenobi as an initiate, his mind automatically supplied him an image of an almost thirteen-year-old Kenobi: a ginger-haired boy, too short for his age and too old to be an initiate, begging every passing master with his eyes but not his lips to be taken for a padawan. The desperation that coloured the picture rent his heart. 

Therein lay another difference between Kenobi and Skywalker, Mace realised with a start. Part of Kenobi’s diffidence as an apprentice stemmed from his uncertain start. After nearly being sent away, he could hardly take his relationship with his master for granted. Skywalker, on the other hand, had his position in the Jedi Order vouchsafed by a Jedi Master since the very first day and later sealed by the promise of another Jedi Knight. Instead of working toward his apprenticeship like every other initiate, Skywalker had his handed to him on a silver platter. It was little wonder then that he treated the gift so cheaply.

Kenobi continued, oblivious to Mace’s rumination. “Master Tek told me…she told me that Initiate Wayan had been paired with me when I was still a padawan, and both Master Gallia and Master Koon supported the pairing. He should have been mine.” The last part ended in a broken whisper.

Such was the system. The Creche Masters would recommend master-padawan pairings based on their own observations and reports from the instructors; the suggestion would then be approved by the Council. The entire process, guided by the Force, took at least a year of collaborative deliberation. Drawing upon his impression of the Initiate, Mace imagined Kenobi and Bay Chi’Dan as a team. Both were serious and intellectual, disciplined and dedicated. 

The Unifying Force whispered in his ears, a deep affirming _Yes_ , and Mace knew then that, in a universe without Anakin Skywalker, Initiate Wayan would have been Padawan Wayan, apprentice to Master Obi-Wan. And they would have loved one another. 

“What do you want to do, Obi-Wan?” Mace inquired, careful to keep his tone neutral lest he accidentally influence Kenobi in this impromptu test of character. Mace himself felt torn in two as well. On one hand, he dearly wished to see Initiate Wayan and Kenobi together, knowing that Kenobi would at last experience the happiness he so richly deserved from a caring and biddable student; that was a pairing the Council could easily support. On the other hand, reckless, recalcitrant and overtly emotional though Skywalker was, it would not be right to deprive him of his status just because the better suited came along.

The laughter that answered him was thin and brittle. Kenobi gazed at the streams of light that were Coruscant’s night traffic, one hand absentmindedly caressing the scented petals of his chrysanthemum. “Surely you meant ‘What can I do?’ There are many things I want to do, but none that can be done.” The bitter tone, so uncharacteristic of Kenobi’s normal self, sent a chill down Mace’s spine. “Oh, I know my options. It is a Master’s prerogative to take or release an apprentice, and I’ll be the first to admit that Anakin and I are not as close as we ought to be. But I remember, Mace. I remember. I was twenty-five-year-old, full of hope and on the cusp of knighthood when Qui-Gon repudiated me. There is no pain in the universe such as that. None. It never fades away completely. I can’t possibly subject Anakin to it. I cannot even encourage him onto alternative pathways so I can apprentice Initiate Wayan.”

Mace recalled the evening Kenobi spoke of clearly. He had felt the padawan’s shock and hurt, a ripple in the Force so acute his own chest ached in sympathetic pain. The sensation of heart being torn out from bleeding ribcage had lingered for days after the team had left for Naboo, turning the very air in the Council chamber sour. He felt inordinately relieved that he would not need to bear witness to that soul-deep pain again. But then, he really needn’t have worried. Kenobi had a strong sense of fairness, and, despite his own assertion, he was growing attached to Skywalker.

The resolution brought no peace to Kenobi, however. Long-buried memories had left their graves; now they dragged themselves to the forefront of Kenobi’s mind, demanding his frightened, reluctant attention in the way only reanimated corpses could. Hurt past and present combined to push back rational thoughts until only the most basic emotional responses remained. “Mace, I cannot help but feel that this is a lesson from the Force to me. I now understand Qui-Gon’s motives perfectly. He saw a prospective apprentice with more talents and better compatibility, and he could not stand to see them go to waste. I only wish Initiate Wayan doesn’t have to suffer for the Force to deliver such a lesson.” 

“That is enough, Obi-Wan,” Mace interrupted sharply, unable to bear the outpouring of sorrow any longer. Inwardly cursing his dead friend’s insensitivity, he stated firmly, “Qui-Gon Jinn was my friend for thirty years, and I think I knew him quite well. He once told me that you are the most precious gift the Force had ever bestowed on him. He loved you. I believe toward the end he was in love with you as well. Your assumption about his motives is unfounded, so you’d better stop this self-denigration at once.”

Kenobi’s outstretched hand stilled, hovering just above a large chrysanthemum flower. Then a tremor ran from his arm through his entire body. Mace shut up, wondering if he had accidentally damaged Kenobi’s platonic image of his late master.

Nothing outward changed, but it was as though a gust of Westerly wind thinned and at last dispersed the snow-laden cloud. The sun shone through, thawing frozen grounds and reviving dormant lives in the soil. A bud opened, the timid stretching of petals signalling the end of winter. Mace had never realised how strained Kenobi had looked until an overjoyed smile stole over his features, flushing his cheeks and brightening his eyes. Then Kenobi’s shoulders hitched. He clasped a hand to his mouth to muffle a sob, but two fat tears nonetheless welled up from those leaf-green eyes and disappeared into his beard.

Simultaneously fascinated and embarrassed by his friend’s tears, Mace averted his eyes, determined to give the overwhelmed man some semblance of privacy. His attention fell upon the potted chrysanthemum, and this time he recognised the delicate white flowers as the ones Qui-Gon had used to strew around his meditation mats. Surveying the room with new eyes, he saw subtle traces of his long deceased friend in every corner.

“You were in love with him.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I am still in love with him. I was only waiting for my knighting to tell him.” Kenobi finally turned to look at him. Although his eyes were red-rimmed and his face blotched, he looked happier than Mace ever remembered seeing. At last he appeared his actual age of thirty, not a man old before his time. “Once or twice I suspected that he returned my feeling as well, but I could never be sure. So thank you, Mace. Thank you.” 

Mace patted Kenobi’s forearm comfortingly, gladdened by the brightness of the younger man’s Force signature. A fire that had been snuffed out five years ago burned anew. Then Mace stood up and stretched his shoulders. “I’ll show myself out. You look like you need a bit of meditation.”

Kenobi nodded gratefully. “I’d better. Anakin would require my full attention tomorrow.” Without further ado Kenobi’s eyes fluttered close, and Mace could tell from the unique aura of peace that he had instantly reached a deep communion with the Force.

Mace walked across the living room silently lest he disturbed the Knight’s meditation. Just before he reached the shoe stand, he noticed a framed holopic propped up on one of the low shelves, nestled between a copper incense burner and a palm-sized blueschist rock. Curiosity piqued by the solitary picture, Mace bent to examine it, and instantly understood why this holopic alone held the place of honour. It had been taken on Kenobi’s Ascension Ceremony when he had officially been granted the status of senior padawan, the still image capturing the Master and the Apprentice in a moment of ritualistic congratulation. Qui-Gon Jinn’s large hands rested on Kenobi’s upper arms while he dropped a symbolic kiss on the apprentice’s cheek — an act that would have been repeated on Obi-Wan’s Knighting day had the Master been alive — and both men bore the expression of supreme contentment. 

Just then he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. He turned toward Obi-Wan, and blinked once, twice, transfixed by the tableau.

An ethereal blue glow surrounded the kneeling Knight. As Mace watched, the light coalesced into the shape of a very familiar figure. Qui-Gon Jinn looked the same as the last time Mace had seen him on Coruscant: tall and regal, mouth quirked, eyes crinkled, a Jedi Master in his prime. Without a sound Qui-Gon sank to his knees before Kenobi, clasped his hands on his upper arms, and very slowly leaned forward to press a chaste kiss his lips. Kenobi did not open his eyes or shift from his meditative position, but his mouth curved into a gentle smile. He exhaled softly, and the single word carried in that rush of air was at once prayer, benediction and jubilation:

“Qui-Gon.”

Mace quietly slipped through the door and closed it behind him, giving the lovers’ reunion the privacy it deserved. 

Tomorrow he would consult Yoda on what to do with Initiate Wayan’s placement. Such talent should not go to waste, after all. And if the little green troll happened to jab him in the shin with lower frequency than usual, he might tell him a tale about love, loss and the manifestation of the Force. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece of “Proceed with Caution, Padawan Skywalker” set three years before it. Fresh into puberty, Anakin displayed all the teenager’s rebelliousness. But his disobedience was compounded by his unconscious loathing of the inherent inequality in a Master-Padawan relationship. Obi-Wan struggled to relate to his student who is essentially the antithesis of everything he is, all the while contending with his sense of inferiority from Qui-Gon’s rejection (an idea that almost gained sentience, I know).
> 
> This story can be contrasted with its companion piece. Specially, Mace believes that Anakin’s arrogance stems from his overblown sense of self-worth, while in the companion piece it is revealed that Anakin actually harbours a deep insecurity about his place in the Order. In a way they are both right, for Anakin is simultaneously very arrogant and very insecure. What a volatile combination!
> 
> The characterisation of Anakin is heavily influenced by ruth baulding’s stories, particularly “Teaching Credentials” and “Inheritance”. I couldn’t help it. Ruth baulding had perfected the art of petulant, uncultured, cantankerous yet utterly human Anakin Skywalker.
> 
> The last scene of the story is inspired by “Meditations on a Moment in Time” by Gail Riordan, which though short, is a breathtakingly portrait of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s devotion to each other.
> 
> Hidden in the story is a small tribute to saraid, whose stories brought me many smiles and a few tears. Kudos to anyone that figures out what the tribute is!
> 
> Again please be gentle and generous with feedbacks. I subsist on them.


End file.
